The Things That Define Us REWRITTEN
by listenWITHyourHEART
Summary: Rose Weasley is a Squib and is cast out from her family. Living with her Muggle grandparents, Rose tries to live with the pain of her family's hate. But there's foul play in the absence of Rose's power that only Scorpius Malfoy can fix. NEW/FIXED VERSION
1. I'm the Epitome of My Family's Shame

_The Things That Define Us_

A** HARRY POTTER: NEXT GENERATION** FANFICTION

by, listenWITHyourHEART

_[in which the Disclaimer Dragon get's lured out of hiding with something shiny]_

SUMMARY: no one could believe that Rose was a Squib; but the Healer confirmed it. In her family's shame, Rose is cast out into the Muggle World at age 11 to live with her mother's parents. Five years later, enter Scorpius Malfoy, best friend of Rose's cousin Albus Potter, who is spending the summer at his maternal grandmother's; coincidentally, the same village where Rose resides. After a chance encounter, Scorpius befriends the "Muggle girl", Rose Granger not knowing who she is and not knowing that her real surname is Weasley: the mistake her family never talks about. Can Rose keep up the ruse, knowing full well of what world Scorpius belongs to… the one she wants to be accepted in so badly? The summer before Scorpius's Seventh Year at Hogwarts, he discovers a hidden secret in Malfoy Manor that has to do with the missing powers of one Rose Weasley… and the prophecy that will change the lives of everyone, forever.

ONE… _I'm the Epitome of My Family's Shame_

**PRE-AUTHOR'S NOTE: I have taken a lot of consideration into this, but I decided to rewrite this story in different POV's instead of just Third Person (though that may occur occasionally). For those of you who are reading for the first time, nothing has really changed, just the way it's being told. For those of you who had read, alerted and reviewed already, please re-read this, because it's worded different and I think this version does everything justice more than before.**

**And, FYI: to those who don't wanna read this because you think it's 'not possible' for Rose to be a Squib, I agree: it's not possible… **_**without foul play. **_**Just read on and everything will be explained later on.**

Rose Weasley was not extraordinary in her toddler years, which was alright and not a cause for concern; so few of her kind were at that age.

But when she turned five and was entering the small pre-school with other wizarding children, everyone was a little anxious. They were excited though; maybe by Rose being around more… developed children, it would help speed along her own development. But that eager anticipation soon melted into full-blown worry when her sixth birthday arrived with no change. And after another tense year of waiting and her seventh birthday arrived with once again nothing – not one inkling – her father got desperate, unwilling to voice his fears, let alone face them in his own mind. For her younger brother of two years, Hugo, had become a loose cannon for much of the month prior, showing all the signs they waited for from their first-born, Rose.

Ronald Weasley tried to no avail for another whole year to elicit a display from her. Six months after her eighth birthday her father called in assistance from his older brother, George. His children – the twins, Fred and his older sister by two minutes, Roxanne (Roxy) – had shown signs seven years ago, when they were three; Rose was a whole five years later than them… and still waiting, still trying.

In those next six months – ending at Rose's ninth birthday - even George, whom Ron thought was sure to make something happen, could not, Hermione – Rose's mother – suggested the help of an old school friend, with whom they were still on regular terms: Neville Longbottom.

Hermione rationalized that since Neville had been a late bloomer himself, he would know most about provoking a response; better would have been his Great Uncle Algie, but he had long passed away. Nevertheless, they called in his assistance.

Neville worked with Rose every day two months later for the duration of the next three months; since he was the Herbology Professor at Hogwarts, he couldn't visit during the school year. When August 30th arrived with no success, Neville regretfully left, having to head back to his post.

Ron, George and sometimes Hermione, Rose's Uncle Harry and Aunt Ginny, tried for the next eight months until her tenth birthday arrived on the Spring Equinox (March 21st).

And again they were disappointed.

However, disappointed isn't strong enough to describe how they felt. They were plagued with worry, with fear, and their hope and optimism was becoming practically non-existent.

Finally, Rose's father called in a favor at St. Mungo's – the wizarding hospital – for Rose to be examined and diagnosed if something really _was_ wrong other than what he - and many others - secretly dreaded. It was so close to her eleventh birthday – 8 months – when they finally were able to coordinate everything in order to keep things secret and confidential, Ron and Hermione brought Rose to St. Mungo's early in the pre-dawn morning to be evaluated.

After two weeks of quarantined testing with the best Healers, the diagnosis was delivered.

It confirmed everyone's worst fear:

Rose Weasley, was a Squib.

* * *

**ROSE'S ;; POV**

The ride home in dad's faded blue _ancient_ '69 Triumph Herald was tense at best.

Hugo sat as far away from me in the back seat as possible, squishing himself against the left side and not looking at me once.

Mom and dad were stonily quiet in the front seat; they didn't look at each other either, just stared straight ahead the entire 2 hour ride from St. Mungo's back to our home in Castle Cary, Somerset.

It was bad enough by the first 30 minutes, but I was about to break into hysterics by the time we reached hour two. Thankfully, we had just pulled into the main road five minutes from our home, so I was able to hold everything back.

It was bad enough that I was a _Squib_… but having my own family sit in tense and almost _angry_ silence around me, not even looking at one another – and certainly not me - for almost two hours…? That was my own personal torture magnified by thousands.

_Thousands._

Hugo bolted out of the car the moment dad pulled to a stop in the drive and raced into the house. Dad doesn't have to lock it like a Muggle would; the doorknob is hand-aura sensitive. Only I, Hugo, our parents and the rest of our _extended_ family members are able to enter on their own. Some of my parents work friends also are able to enter as well, but not many and none I can remember by name.

Mom and dad sat in the car in the same silence a few moments longer before they both got out as well. Then without a word or even a glance at me, they shut their doors and made the walk up the front steps and into the house, shutting it behind them.

My tears started to form in earnest then, threatening to brim over and fall down my cheeks. Angrily and ashamed, I rubbed at my eyes furiously, trying to stop their progress. Nothing could, though, and they fell anyway, giving way for raking sobs to come forth not long afterwards, shaking my whole torso in self-loathing.

I sat alone and crying in the back of the car for almost an hour. The sun had started to fall over the horizon and the world around me outside the car had darkened and cooled again from the relatively hot, though overcast July day. Glancing at my wristwatch, I saw it was almost seven-thirty; dinner was well over by now, then.

At that thought, my stomach growled its displeasure and I dared to hope for a second that they had set a plate for me in my absence. However, once I entered the house and made my way into the kitchen with my handled trunk I had lived out of for the past two weeks at St. Mungo's, the kitchen was spotless and no plate in sight. Opening the fridge, I saw no plate wrapped in Saran Wrap (mum still liked to use some Muggle household items) for me. Not even a whiff of what they had had, either.

I closed the door slowly, making barely a sound as I did. I turned around from in front of the fridge and made my way back into the hall, heading for the stairs to go to my room.

It was only when I had made it all the way into my room, did I realize I had not seen – nor heard – any other sounds in the house. It was obvious Hugo and my parents had left via the Floo Network. And if I had to guess where, I'd say most likely Uncle Harry and Aunt Ginny's house.

That explained the lack of dinner smells at least.

I suddenly got a sick feeling in the pit of my stomach, making it churn anxiously. If my parents and Hugo were as upset and… _ashamed_ as I thought they were, seeing Uncle Harry and Aunt Ginny wouldn't help.

Because if there was one thing over the years that remained constant was Ron, Hermione and Harry standing by each other… and if my parents did not love me anymore – being as I was – Uncle Harry would not challenge them. They had been through too much in the war to forsake or question each other now.

I lay down in my bed without changing into any nightclothes on top of the blankets, eyes open for hours. No matter how I tried to make myself to close them, they would not obey, even if I tried my hardest to see that if when I opened them again, this would have all been some terrible dream. But I knew in the deepest part of my heart… this was real.

They arrived home around three am, trying to remain quiet. Hugo made his way directly into his room past mine, not even stopping to say goodnight like he had every night before this. My parents went to their room in the same manner.

They did not speak to me at all that night, ever since the Healer gave the world-shattering news. And by the way the next few days went… they only would if it was necessary. Which was very, very seldom. Hugo never did, though, not even if it was important.

It was a torturous eight months stuck at home after that.

I knew that I was still hoping it would come. I was wishing desperately, every moment I could, that an owl would come bearing an envelope addressed to me written in emerald green ink.

It never did.

The day after my eleventh birthday my parents called me out of bed around nine in the morning.

This was the first time they were taking an initiative to talk to me, I realized. Without meaning to, hope sprouted. Maybe they were calling me down to tell me they still loved me! That they found out what's wrong with me! Why I have no powers! Maybe they had been working all this time, trying to find a cure, but didn't talk to me because they hadn't wanted to get my hopes up! Yes, that was sure to be it!

I was horribly naïve at eleven.

I entered the kitchen, keeping my face safely neutral. I didn't want my excitement to show just yet. But their hard, almost bitter expressions started chipping away at that silly little hope, until little by little, after every word they spoke, it was gone… forever.

They were sending me away to live with my mother's Muggle parents, Catherine and Nathan Granger, who lived in the small village of Dunster, near the coast. They told me to go upstairs and pack everything of mine and they would be leaving in the morning to drop me off.

I merely nodded, adopting the silence they had so long held with me. Mine was void of emotion… and pain. I told myself I would not hurt because of this. If they were casting me out because of something that wasn't either their, nor my, fault, then pox on them! They were no family of mine first. Because I then and there decided to renounce my surname.

I would never again call myself a Weasley, and not because they told me so.

I left them and went upstairs to my room, shutting the door behind me softly. I stood there, looking at all of my things strewn about the room in a severely cluttered fashion. I steeled my resolve and then turned and left the room, heading up to the attic to get some empty boxes to pack everything in.

The attic was dusty. No one had been up here in years, let alone to clean. There was a pathway of sorts in the thick layer of dust on the floorboards. It was a layer that was much thinner than the rest, so I assumed this had been walked upon the most recently. I followed it with my eyes, still standing on the ladder, and saw it led to a tall pile of about eight large boxes under the small window at the top of the house.

Curious I stepped up into the attic properly and walked over to them, trying to not kick up more dust than my lungs could handle.

After a small bout of terrible coughs, I stood before them and reached to lift up the flap of one, to see what was inside.

When I did, I smiled for the first time in a very long time.

Inside were books. Textbooks. _Hogwarts_ textbooks. _Magic textbooks._

I picked up the first one I saw in a deep blue leather cover with faded gold lettering on the cover, letting me know the book was called _A Beginner's Guide to Transfiguration_ by, Emeric Switch. I opened the front cover to see the neat and feminine penmanship of my mother, her name written on the inside of the front cover in an almost bossy way.

_This textbook is the property of Hermione Jean Granger. If found please return to the Gryffindor Common Room!_

The exclamation point almost made me laugh; I realized that the last part was added in after she had written her ownership, which must have been before her sorting.

With an almost bitter smile, I placed the book back in the box with the rest.

Because of my unlucky birth, I'd never attend Hogwarts like she had, or my father and my other relatives.

I made my way slowly away from the boxes… before I stopped dead, a slow and much more devious smile creeping onto my face.

Turning around, I went back to the boxes and tried to lift one, but realized they'd be too heavy for me to carry even a foot, let alone down those ladder rungs and into my room down the hall. I hurriedly grabbed as many as I could safely in my arms and carried them down and then to my room to deposit carefully on my bed and floor.

It took me many trips and almost two hours of exhaustion, but I had gotten them all down into my room. There were almost three hundred books, I realized as I collapsed at last on a cushion that had fallen off my bed and onto the floorboards.

I breathed heavy, but smiled at the books pilled around me.

Once I had caught my breath I went back up to grab the boxes they came from and the others I had gone up to the attic to get in the first place. I then started packing the books back up and all of my other things in my room until I was done, almost five whole hours later around four pm.

I went down to the kitchen then to grab myself a glass of water and a turkey sandwich. I took them up to my room and ate in silence, bringing the plates back down when I was done.

I went right back upstairs and changed for bed and laid out my clothes I was wearing to start my new life.

Something told me my maternal grandparents – whom I had never met – would be different than my actual parents. I felt that I would have a life there. One where I was loved and cared for.

The next day was spent in much the same silence as the trip back from St. Mungo's over eight months ago. It took us a little less time to get to Dunster than back from London, about an hour and a half in total. We had left our (now my old) home around six am, so it was a little half past seven upon arrival.

When we finally pulled up to their small stone cottage a little ways from the main part of the town in a large, spacious neighborhood, Dad immediately got out and went around to the trunk where all of my boxes of things were stored using an Undetectable Extension Charm. I got out as well and stood on the sidewalk, arms wrapped around my torso, feeling suddenly very cold. More so than I should, even though it was March and near the coast. It took Dad only a few minutes to get everything out and onto the sidewalk – he used magic; it was early enough for the Muggles to still be asleep and not watching. It was a Saturday after all – and then he just got back into the driver's seat of the car, started it back up and _left._

Not one word of goodbye.

From him, mum, or Hugo.

I had figured as much, though I had hoped there would be… _something._

I was starting to realize my naive mind was only hurting me over and over, instead of helping me. I was going to have to harden up, and face the reality of my life as it is now.

Just after my dad had disappeared around the corner, the front door of the cottage opened and an older man with thinning gray hair stepped out onto the porch dressed in long woolen and blue striped nightclothes, pulling a darker blue bathrobe over it.

He took one look at me and his eyes widened in shock.

"Cat? Can you come here please?" he called, turning his neck slightly to project the call into the house.

"What's the matter Nathan?" came a faint female reply from inside the cottage that got louder as I assumed she was walking towards him.

He stepped aside as she reached him, pointing out to me standing on the sidewalk, surrounded by my things in boxes.

"Oh good heavens…" she breathed, one aged hand flying to her mouth, causing her long brown hair – streaked with gray here and there – to blow back with the speed of it.

She stood there for a moment as I looked down at my feet, anxiously rubbing my right arm in anxiety. Because by their apparent shock at seeing me – if they even recognized me, which I think they did – my now (ex)parents didn't tell them I was coming.

And if they didn't know – and obviously didn't agree – I might be homeless now.

Oh crap…

I heard then a rapid shuffle of feet approach me and I was suddenly enveloped in a tight, almost breath-restricting embrace, my grandmother's hair pressing against the right side of my face.

It was this act that broke down all barriers I had been keeping up for months.

And before I knew it, sobs were pouring from my mouth, tears flowing from my eyes and my arms were clutching the back of her nightgown tightly in anguish.

The rest was a teary, wet blur.

Before I realized it, I was inside their sitting room, still holding tight onto my grandmother's nightgown and crying harder if possible. A few minutes later – maybe ten – as Catherine tried to soothe me grandpa Nathan brought the boxes inside. He had used a collapsible hand-truck for the boxes that held my books and when everything was inside, he sat down across from me and placed his hand on mine that held my grandma close.

Another few minutes later, my sobs had subsided and I tried to dry my eyes as best I could. I looked down at my hands that I had now folded in my lap after taking them away from my grandmother's nightgown, which was all wet and wrinkled now.

"You're… Rose Weasley, right? Our daughter Hermione's child? Our granddaughter?"

I nodded slowly and spoke in a raspy voice from the crying.

"I'm just Rose now. I am your granddaughter, but Hermione Weasley is no longer my mother, and Ron Weasley is no longer my father."

There was a slight pause that radiated confusion from both my grandparents.

"What do you… mean? Did something happen to them?"

The end of the second question from Catherine rose in fear that her daughter was dead or hurt, but I quickly cleared that up.

"What happened is that they decided to no longer love me because of what I am. So, they sent me to live with you, like I never existed."

Catherine gasped and Nathan was now radiating anger under the confusion of the 'what I am' part.

"Rose… I'm still a little confused. What exactly happened to bring this on?" Catherine asked.

"I'm a Squib. I have no magic powers like them, or my younger brother. A Healer in the wizarding hospital St. Mungo's confirmed it. They were ashamed of me not fitting into their perfect, famous family. So, I was cut out of it the second they were sure the Healer was right. I did not get my Hogwarts letter two days ago when I turned eleven."

They were both silent for a few moments after that.

I could feel Catherine trying to protest that what I said was false, that her daughter would never do that. Nor my father or any of my other family. So, I stopped her with another explanation of sorts.

"I once thought my mother would never do such a thing either, ma'am. My father either. But they did. The second they heard the news, everything changed and I was no longer loved. I wasn't talked to after the diagnosis, over eight months ago. No matter who my mother and your daughter was… she's not that person anymore. And I wish to everything in this world that it wasn't true, believe me."

They were silent again for a moment.

It was Nathan, however, who broke the silence.

"Well then. Rose, if you're able, can you help me bring your things up to the guest room? I mean…. your room?"

I jerked my head up in shock, my mouth open in a small 'o' after he said it. His face was filled with angry determination and a concerned and loving smile that brought one to my face as well.

"O-okay."

I got up and followed him to the boxes to start carrying them up the stairs.

"Rose?"

I turned right before I picked one up, to face my grandmother.

"Yes?"

"We're glad you're here. We love you."

My smile shone again.

"I love you, too."

Things weren't as easy as that though.

Since I was wizard-born, I had no Muggle-UK birth certificate, and we had no wizard friends to conjure one. Basically in the Muggle-world, I didn't exist.

After a night of pondering, I was finally able to come up with a solution.

My grandparents would bring me to the town's mayor, saying they found me unconscious outside their home. He would call the police and I would tell them that I could remember nothing about who I was and would ask the police to use my fingerprints to discover my identity. When they did, they would find nothing in the system of me ever being born. Then, my grandparents would convince the officials that would sure ask questions about this, that did it really matter? I wasn't anyone dangerous; just a lost, memory-less orphan girl who needed a home and an identity. They would then adopt me, and the officials would give me a birth certificate with the date of my choice and any name I chose.

Even though I doubted it would go as smoothly as that, it did.

I guess I played up the 'lost, lonely orphan' card well.

I ended up keeping my real birthday and my real first name. I took the last name of my grandparents, though: Granger.

Since of my 'amnesia', I needed to be tested for school.

I did perfect in penmanship – though it was weird to use a pen and not a quill and ink – and could read excellent. Simple addition and subtraction I could perform math-wise, but that was about it. Since a wizard's education started _now_ – at eleven, not like six in the Muggle-world – and didn't include science and Muggle history – at least not until third year when I could take Muggle Studies – I knew none of it.

And since it was March and the school year ended in three short months, the town's school board figured they'd send me to a private lesson at the primary school to catch up for Year Six in the fall.

So, that's how I spent the next three months until June, when school – and my private one – let out for the summer.

About mid-April, though, I got quite a shock, 'blast-from-the-past' wise.

I received an owl post.

From my cousin, Lily Potter.

_Dear Rose,_

_ I hope my owl Phillip – who I got back in January – found you okay. He hasn't been used much yet, as I can easily Floo to anyone I want to see. He'll be useful in a few years though, when I go to Hogwarts…_

_ Oh bollocks. I can't believe I just wrote that. It's terribly insensitive to bring that up to you. But, if there's one thing I hate more than your horrible luck, is that both of our parents didn't try and make it work!_

_ I found out about your… condition about two weeks after you did. I was away from home, if you didn't know, for a month with Aunt Luna, and the twins, Lorcan and Lysander, looking for Crumple Horned Snortlacks (again). I took the trip more out of curiosity than interest or belief. It was uneventful in the sense that we didn't find them (obviously). Aunt Luna complained of all the Nargles or whatever. They were clouding her tracking skills. Sure._

_ I would have sent you a letter before now – almost ten months ago! – but I knew Aunt Hermione and Uncle Ron might read the letter and be angry that I wasn't following their example about you._

_ They may not care anymore, Rose, but I do._

_ It's just rotten luck, you being a… Squib. It's not a contagious disease for goodness sakes! They're acting like you have the DragonPox Plague or something! Good grief._

_ I want to let you know, Rose, I will always be here. My feelings for you as family will never change and you can always reach me by sending Phillip back. I told him to stay with you until you reply. I hope he understood. I think he did anyway._

_ If you want I can keep you posted on everything going on in the wizarding world (as well as the now whole rotten family – in my eyes, and maybe yours – if you want). If not, I'd still love to hear about your life now in the Muggle-world._

_Yours Always,_

_Lily Luna Potter_

I had smiled wide at this and only when I tasted salt in my mouth, did I realize I was crying with happiness.

And so, Lily was my one wizard correspondent throughout the next few months and beyond.

She told me about her home-life – how I was never mentioned, sadly and horribly – and I told her about mine and my catch-up Muggle studies. She kept me posted on Albus - how terribly annoying he was being, talking about Hogwarts 24/7 - and James from his - sparse - letters from Hogwarts, as well as occasionally, Louis, Roxy and Fred when their parents visited.

Most of my summer was spent with books.

I figured that when I started Year Six in the fall – I was all caught up, right on time, thank goodness (well, thank my inherited smarts, at least) – I could make friends. I knew that the whole small town of Dunster knew of me now, and there were sure to be a few rumors. However, we didn't have many people visiting, trying to find out things. The only ones who did were a few of our closest neighbors and my grandparent's friends. But they were all their age, and never brought their grandkids, if they had them.

So, the books: they were the magic textbooks I had nicked from the attic, and I poured through them like plants in a drought – as fast and as understanding as I could – even without a wand or potion ingredients to practice with.

I was basically going on theory, which was as good as I could get.

A week into July, I got another reply from Lily. Apart from the letter Phillip brought, he carried a small package, which turned out to be a small beaded bag that looked familiar.

Upon opening the letter, I realized where I knew it from.

It was my moms, the one with an Undetectable Extension Charm put on inside of it that she used to carry around everything she, my father and Uncle Harry needed during the war. I turned it over in my hands, almost gingerly, peering at it. Finally I decided to read Lily's letter first, which would probably tell me _how she got it._ And other things, like if there was anything inside.

_Rose,_

_ How has your summer holiday been so far? Must feel great knowing you're all caught up in Muggle-schooling for you to start the next year with the kids your age. Did you have any final exams or whatever to make sure you knew your stuff? Even if you did, I know you aced them easily._

_ ...okay, so that was my pathetic attempt at trying to create suspense, because I know you already opened the package and saw the beaded bag. And _also_ knowing you, you probably figured out what it was, too._

_ Yeah, it was your mom's, the one she used in the war._

_ And, I also bet you tried to figure out how I got it, or _why_, even. Maybe you got it, maybe not. So, I'll give the story anyway (prepare for an annoyingly long spiel)._

_ So, last week all us Potter's finally went to your old house for a 'welcome home_ slash_ happy summer holidays!'_ _party. Mum and Dad had gone over there before, sometimes bringing me and Al, too, but Hugo and Al never included me in anything! ...so I didn't really go; but... James were back from Hogwarts, as well as the other cousins, so I went with them this time._

_ We Floo'd of course, and I came to realize that the entirety of the Weasley clan was there, too: Aunt Angelina and Uncle George – with Roxy and Fred – Aunt Fleur and Uncle Bill – with Victoire, Dominique and Louis – Uncle Percy and Aunt Audrey – with Molly and Lucy – and even(honorary) Aunt Luna and Uncle Rolf – with Lorcan and Lysander – Teddy, Grandma and Grandpa Weasley._

_ I noticed right away that there were no pictures of you anywhere, Rose. I'm sorry to say that, truly. It's really cruel what they did, and so actually seeing your old house with all of the pictures of you I was used to seeing, gone, made me angrier than I thought I ever could become._

_ In essence I started to avoid everyone, an angry scowl on my face. It didn't take me long, though to realize that me talking about you, or bringing you up, wouldn't go over well. Everyone but me basically disowned you, so it got me thinking. If I didn't want to be discovered corresponding with you – and therefore get banned and hollered at or whatever – I'd have to act like I disowned you too. Which, as much as it pained me to do so, actually worked (as in no one acted all suspicious or whatever)._

_ So, all the adults were hanging out and drinking a little firewhiskey and the kids were all going out to the field a few blocks away that we all usually went to play Quidditch at (the one up high, but hidden behind the huge pines). So, basically, it was perfect timing, having no one watching me or around to discover what I was going to do._

_ From your last letters telling me about the magic texts you nicked, I figured the item – even though it is pretty valuable and important – I wanted to send you was up in the attic. The only problem was, I know your attic is huge – by the size of your house – and if your father is as much as an unorganized pack-rat – even with your mom's influence – as my father has said he was, it would take me a bit to find it. And, not to mention the possibility of an Undetectable Extension Charm being used, because of said pack-rat tendencies._

_ I tried to remain as silent as I could while I went through the boxes. It would have been so much easier – on my nerves, really – if I had a wand, and could cast _Muffliato_. I didn't though, so I'd have to make due. I realized though, that it'd probably be in a box farther back, and soon my luck rose. Your mum had labeled these boxes and I found it in the box marked, 'Personal War Artifacts and Paraphernalia'._

_ I opened it and as I did so, I realized I might not be able to get it at all. Surely this was a really valuable item and your mum must've put some anti-theft charms on it. Though, my luck got even better. Upon looking into the box, it seemed like someone had been rummaging through it not long ago. And there were a few charmed and locked boxes in there, so I almost gave up, thinking it was inaccessible. But, then I saw one of the boxes was open slightly._

_ It – praise everything! – was the box that held the beaded bag._

_ I have no idea why it hadn't been locked back up, or whatever, but I didn't care. I grabbed it and stuck it in my pocket, shut the box again and left the attic, trying to leave as little evidence as I could. Well, if someone really wanted to find out who was here, there were surely fingerprints and of course, they could use magic to find out. I was banking on no one missing what I took._

_ So, the main purpose of me nicking that for you Rose, was so we could send items to each other. I want to send you the books you need, or any you want. Only problem was that Phillip wouldn't be able to carry even one, probably. So, the beaded bag is the perfect solution: it's got a Featherlight Charm on it and the Undetectable Extension Charm, too. So, we could fit as much as we wanted in there and it wouldn't get any heavier._

_ Awesome, right?_

_ Well, you can thank me later. _

_ Inside is a copy of the book, _Muggles Who Notice_ by,_ Blenheim Stalk._ Not sure if it's your speed, but I thought it looked interesting._

_ You can send me book requests in your letters, and I'll get them for you, since mum and dad give me a ridiculous amount of pocket money and I can Floo to Diagon Alley if I want; mum and dad always let me if I say I'm just going to see Uncle George. I do, but not for the majority of my trips._

_ So yeah. I think this letter is long enough already._

_ Enjoy your book! And I'll wait for Phillips return with your reply._

_Fondly,_

_Lily_

I smiled at the end of her letter and eagerly pulled open the bag's string. I reached inside and my hand instantly felt the book in question. Pulling it out, I grinned.

Suddenly an idea came to me. I set it down on my desk and leaned down to the bottom drawer of the desk and pulled out a small box I kept in the back. Inside I kept a handful of quills and two inkwells. I used these when I wrote to Lily when I was at home. Now, however, I was using them for something else.

Unstopping the inkwell's cork, I dipped in the tip of the quill and pulled back the cover of the book. Grinning, I put the ink and quill to the page and wrote, _'This book is the property of Rose Melinda Granger! If found return to 577 Jessup Lane, Dunster.'_

Smiling in a self-satisfied sort of way, I waited until the ink dried, then slowly closed the cover once more.

Looking out the window behind my desk, I lazily petted Phillips soft brown feathered head as I watched the sun set behind the trees and farther out, the ocean.

This felt like a good omen to me, receiving this book and the beaded bag. Lily really was indispensable and I was glad for her unwavering denial to conform.

I didn't know what I'd do without her.

So, I pulled a clean page of paper towards me with the quill and inkwell. Dipping the quill once again, I set it to paper and started my reply.

* * *

**Author's Note: WOW! That rewrite took 5,000,000,000 years! Haha. Most of you probably didn't even know I was rewriting it at all, anyway.**

**Well, I am. Third Person POV didn't seem to do it justice, in my eyes anyway.**

** And this would've been up weeks ago, but a lot of stuff has been happening in my life. And on Sunday, the Fourth of July! I'm moving almost 3,000 miles away. So, yeah. That's definitely been adding to my stress and busyness levels.**

** So! This isn't the whole of the first chapter of the original story, as those who have read that version first, would have noticed. It's just that I was approaching almost 7,000! words, and figured I'd split it up.**

** It's following the same plot line mostly, but I'm having some Lily POV and Scorpius POV chapters, too. Nice huh?**

** So, okay. REVIEW**_**REVIEW**_REVIEW_REVIEW!_ **Please? I want to know what you guys thought of this new version. The old one will be terminated once this one is caught up in the timeline of the other.**

** So, ALERT this one, now, okay? And FAVORITE too! (though I doubt any of you read this long-arse A/N anyway… lol)**

**Lots of love,**

**-listenWITHyourHEART;; Cassidi (7,010 words)**


	2. the most horrible AN I can concieve

Okay, so I am typing this on my local library's computer for one reason only: THE UNTHINKABLE HAS HAPPENED.

My laptop DIED. DIED A HORRIBLE, SCREECHING, PAINFUL (for me) DEATH! And, with it (since I'm an absolute IDIOT and didn't back anything up) I lost EVERY SINGLE ONE OF MY STORIES. And not just my fan fics, NOOOOOO! That would be too nice of the Universe! That would have been _slightly_ merciful! Nope, I also lost about FIFTY – 5O! - of my original stories in various stages of completion. And all you other writers out there know this fact to be the COLD. HARD. TRUTH. once you write something, you can _never_ recreate it a second time, exactly how it was.

And I want to SCREAM!

So, until further notice, all of my stories are on Hiatus:

the 'Danny Phantom' fic: _The Moments I Forgot_

the 'Harry Potter' fic: _The Things That Define Us REWRITTEN_

and

the 'Sonny With a Chance' fic: _Even Glasses Won't Help the LoveBlind_

I am bringing my wrecked hard-drive to a specialist on Monday to see if he can extract my documents SOMEHOW. I will probably go into a never ending depression if he can't. My stories are an _actual_ piece of my being. Destroy one and you may as well have chopped off my arm. Destroy another? My leg goes. But destroy them ALL? That's GENOCIDE OF THE MOST HORRIBLE KIND.

So, please guys! Wish me cosmic luck for my documents to be salvageable! If they are, I will back EVERYTHING UP. FIVE TIMES IN DIFFERENT PLACES.

I'll be back soon with an update on the SWAC fic (since that's next in my update queue) even if I can't salvage the unfinished document that was the beginning of that chapter update. I'm not disappearing, though I will take an appropriate time to mourn.

So, love your very sad and depressed author:

_listenWITHyourHEART;; _**Cassidi Lane**


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